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Time is a luxury we no longer possess

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  Time is a luxury we no longer possess Our battered Subi spacecraft, a relic in the night Flickering erratic, its core a dying light On Primary Trade Lane Delta-Nine, a river of light so grand But cycles bled away, draining across the land BK slumped, pale and strained, JB with eyes closed in despair Time a luxury we no longer possessed, consumed by cosmic air. No stopping in uncharted space No "stop and revive" in this perilous, uncharted space. The Rumour Mill's comfort is a memory, lost to time and trace. The exorbitant demand is a punch right to the gut. Our savings drained, our journey's hope, behind a costly shut. Slingshot into an anomaly But Katcha's mind intertwined with Subi, a final desperate plea, "A predictive model for a slingshot to the anomaly!" "Best case, worst case": a gamble to save everything we hold dear, with a 45% chance of structural damage, battling hope and fear. To that faint, almost imperceptible energy signature, ...

Branch Breeze Orange Triptych

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Poem When I seek shelter. I am anxious. Panicked by the cacophony of advice. From all those loaded up. With their wheelbarrows and bags of emotional weight. I am delayed and postponed. My dreams ruined. Locked into procrastination. I the belittled consumer. Attached to every cause. Designed by those more intelligent than me. And then I downloaded a new app. Now I am mindful. In my cage. Vignette Without feeling devastated, I never fully realized my inattention ruined my dreams of myself — so many distractions locked me into an internal misconception. It takes as much energy to procrastinate as to invest in what I want.  The self-effort it takes to delude and believe in each product's message. As one of the target audience, I convinced myself to register, acquire, and purchase. My step forward is the seller's goal. Everywhere I venture, I partake as part of their moral purpose. I feel good as their faulted consumer.  They know how to relieve me of my dread. My acquisition is mi...

Branch Breeze Blue Triptych

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  Poem When my thoughts don't realize. I become restless. I wander between what could have been. My hatreds and false starts. And all decisions I could never make. My sky dreaming. My glass ceilings. I as the consumer. Stoked by the genius. Those who know better for me. And the wasted life of never meeting promises. But still, I follow Vignette Branch Breeze concerns the thoughts I have but cannot fully realize. Without the words, I become restless and agitated. And I begin to think of the things I could have been. I start to dwell on my past frustrations, old hatreds, and false starts. They still haunt me. Then I think of the decisions I know I cannot make. I regret that I have not controlled most of my life, and I then think of what has control. The limitations of my blue sky dreaming and the many glass ceilings I have encountered. But I am content and, as a consumer, am amazed by this era's genius. This branch allows me to consider waste and hollow promises in context to th...